THE ANGEL"S WOLF

                                 

                                                             

She’s an angel who loves to play with the wolf. The sound of her lushes’ voice echoing through the forest and into the wolfs den. The wolf is entranced by her smell, voice and skin: even though they haven’t touched yet, the wolf feels like they have.

She is a virtuous young maiden and the wolf longs to be touched by her. Sapphire, is her name but, her name doesn’t do her justice, the wolf thinks to himself. Honey silk hair, ember eyes, soft features, olive skin. When she runs in her dress, it looks like she’s wearing wings.

“I wish you would talk with me, as much as we play together,” she says to the wolf.

I’m vicious, crude, and dirty: I am a ruthless killer and I made people bleed out rubies; he wants to say that to her, but he remains silent. They are strangers to another: one is made out of all the most brilliant bright colors. The other stranger is dark: full of sin, even when he was in his most victorious moments as a boy knight. The angel still wants to play with the wolf.

                A castle full of dreams is what she strives for, instead of a castle full of dukes and knights: a king who neglects is daughter and a queen so harsh; not even love can out weight the riches, she showers her daughter with. The forest is where she belongs; her castle is not the inner parts of England.

The wolf stalks the angle tracking her scent, wondering where she is running off to. He finds her looking about in his den. where am I and where did he go? She asks herself. A cave filled with wonder, a strange picture lit by the candlelight of a handsome, vicious looking boy holding a sword, she instantly recognizes those beautiful pale blue eyes.

Sapphire sees a silhouette of the wolf and quivers at the sight of him. She looks into his eyes and her heart slows down. The angel who he sees past his eyes, delicately takes the picture of the boy and studies wolf closely.

“I know who you are,” she says to the wolf with a sad look playing on her face. “Don’t just stand there and nod! “talk to me boy knight.” The angel with a heavenly smile, disappeared for a moment and that moment only; or was his eyes deceiving him by her olive skin he never touched or the warmth of her wide spread wings.

Why does the angel look so sad and disappointed at me? what can I possibly say to her? The wolf asks himself, puzzled by the way he feels right now. the angel’s eyes looked swollen with her sorrows, but she still managed to propel herself forward gracefully out of the wolfs den. The wolfs eyes widen in horror of the thought that, once she leaves the den he’ll never see her again.

The wolf sprinted forward, and leaped in the air, and the wolfs paw landed on the hem of the angel’s dress; in a plea for her to stay. The angel turned back, and she saw a strange look in the wolfs eyes. The wolf realized he touched the angel, without harming her. The wolf surprised himself: “I touched someone without hurting them for the first time”, he thought to himself. The wolf looked up to meet the angel’s gaze and she, waiting for the wolf to say something, or do something: Nudge her with affection, paw her playfully. The wolf said nothing, and the angel started to tear up again.

“Are you that afraid to be my friend?” she asked the wolf. Then she strode away with the bottom of her dress torn from the wolfs paw, still on the piece of the dress, watching the angel walk away once more.

The wolf howled in despair, crying and tearing himself up inside. Why? why couldn’t I say anything when I know that I can speak? The wolf questions himself. The last thing the angel said to him before she left, echo’s in the wolfs head, and the thought of friendship breaks the wolfs heart.” Can the angel be so cruel to me?” “who would ever want to be my friend, when all I ever did was kill?”  the wolf asks himself in his time of dispaie.

Years passed by and the angel wasn’t a young maiden anymore; She was to be crowned queen. As the wolf aged, he was dying by his cursed sword. There hasn’t been a day that passed by, when the angel and wolf haven’t thought about each other, Their hearts wither with the happy, and painful memories that they created together. The wolf looks back at his youth, when he was a boy knight; he gazed upon his blood-stained sword, with countless lives he took in the mits, of battle for his majesty the king. ‘I’m no boy knight, if was; I’d have honor, but I do not”. “I’m a killer, a savaged wolf”.

His sword saw straight into his soul, and turned the boy knight into a wolf, the flash back of his knight hood reminded him what he used to be, and how he became what he’s been for years. He goes to his sword and gazes into it once more; before he takes his final breath. He looks back on the happy memories of him and the angel, and the last words she spoke to him.

“The angel was never afraid of me! not once had I scared her”. She really did want to be my friend, and when I touched her: I didn’t kill her or harm her, wolf said to himself. Warmth rushed through hi heart and he saw his human appearance in his sword.  He looked himself over many times, and he was human again. “This is who the angel saw all this time,” he said to himself. He rushed to the castle to see the angel, to seek for her forgiveness.

Everybody in England attended princess Sapphires coronation. Before she got crowned queen, everybody; especially sapphire heard: clings, grunts, and groans, coming from outside. A guard went through the door landing face first, and she saw a scruffy, but handsome man holding a sword in his hand; with a slight cut on the bottom of his lip, blue pale eyes, and a lean muscular build. His eyes were wild and kind. The angel sat up from the throne and gazed into the man’s eyes, from a distance. She wasn’t quite sure but, she was hoping she was right, the man walks to the angel eagerly and touches the angels hand and held it gently. He looked up at her smiling. “I didn’t hurt you again angel sapphire”, the man said to her. The angel was smiling with him, and hugged the man tightly, as she said: I always knew you were my friend, my wolf.

                                                   She’s an angel who loves to play with the wolf.

The Music Man

                 

                                      

                                                                                                                      

He’s a music man yet his soul is sound asleep; Along with his piano in his dimly lit loft. When she sings he doesn’t sing sweetly, it’s too soft and gentle. The piano he sits at is dusty but so elegant; it makes the most beautiful sound that can wake a soul just with one touch of a key. He sits there looking at the black keys of the piano reflecting, pondering where did she go.

She, the goddess so beautiful and mysterious. He never saw her, but he knew she was inside him singing a tune in his soul. She was his muse and he knew she was the one responsible for the lovely music that illuminated his soul and granted his desire to play and create music. He wants the notes to flow through others just like his goddess flows through him.

Every time he sat at his piano he closed his eyes and imagined what she looks like. Long wavy black hair, big blue eyes, ivory skin, average height or perhaps she’s bigger than the world. Other times it was different but still, the result was the same: A bright warm light that fulfils his inspiration and only beautiful melodies would come pouring out of his soul through his fingers and on to the ivories on his piano. The unlively streets of Paris is where he played so the music could flow through and make the people of france feel lively.

Now he only looks back to the days when music came his way and where his goddess went. He sat many times looking at his reflection in those dusty black keys and thought to himself; I was younger then but now I’m just an old man who used to have everything. A sad notion but a painfully logical one indeed. He nods in agreement to his own realization.

He thinks back at the days when people heard his music in the lightly lit streets of paris and loved it. It was hard in those days in france, getting to have people come and see a person at a piano; trying to bring peace and tranquility to the people during the time of war. He knew trying make a living from his passion he knew he would still live a meager life, but he would continue to play.

The music man was so obsessed and in love with his goddess. He really didn’t know what love truly was as a young naïve man. Short light- brown hair, lanky, and green eyes. He never walks with confidence unless he’s walking towards a piano. He eventually found real love; he wanted to find real love, his own inspiration and his own soft but gentle song to sing.

It was a dark but a beautiful night; the moon pouring its celestial light as it saunters around lady Malina and the piano that catches the music man’s attention. Silky Golden- blond hair that falls over her shoulders, heart shaped face, fair skin, rosy cheeks, and hazel eyes. A noble? Or my goddess? He thought to himself as his gaze never left hers and time was lost in an

abandon street where nobles are known to roam. She stands still in the moment with him and he sees the gleam in her eyes as if she was dancing to the melody of the song in his heart.

He finally found love and continued to play his favorite song to his first truest love lady Malina, and she too was happy with the music man. She decided when she first met him that, even though he’s a commoner; that fact could never change her heart. All that mattered to her is what’s in the inside of her love the music man. He stopped playing through the song and gazed at her as she was dancing. He then realized that Malina is his goddess. How she makes his soul spiral: the thought of her illuminated his soul, the music stuck in his head.

Years went by and their love was getting stronger, but they were getting older. They could not wed because a noble cannot marry a commoner, but they still wanted a family. The music man still wanted the beautiful sound of his dusty piano, dimly lit loft where he creates his music, his sacred haven. He knows he must give that up for a family; for his lovely Malina He knew he wouldn’t be able to support his family with his music; he must give up his passion for his love, and a family. He abandons his piano, trying to ignore the music in his head, fighting and trying not to go back to the haven he once knew. Malina was his strength not to go back and leave his dusty fine tuned piano behind. One look in her eyes and he knew he wanted that family.

Together hand in hand was his musical paradise. Over time the goddess was fading away, abandoning the music man and he felt it too. They could not be wedded, and she could not be with child. The music man felt a sad song in her iridescent heart. Could she still love to dance? He gently took her hand and twirled her around with a somber look on her face. She met his gaze as she saw him smiling at her and she suddenly found herself smiling with him. They were dancing once again, the music man was humming and there was still a hope in the song.

Finally, she was with child and the music man kept on humming the melody of the song he named after his love. Every note in his soul was on key. Their happiness was short lived.

They lost their child and his love fell ill. She was depressed, broken-hearted and not even her love the music man; singing to her couldn’t bring her joy. Years passed, and she perished. The loss of her child, her broken heart and depression; killing her ever so slowly throughout the years. Before her final moment: she held on long enough and smiled at the music man and him seeing the gleam in her eyes dancing once more. The smile faded for it was the very last time he would ever see her smiling again.

I am the music man and my soul has been asleep for far too long. Lovely goddess, I beg of you to come back so I can play my best masterpiece (Malina) once more. I implore you to pleases come back to me! I’m an old man and “This is my final hour. He sits alone back at his loft waiting for the goddess to reply. The goddess did not respond and in his last moment, he heard the piano play his masterpiece. I am The Music Man and the music shall always live and die with me. FIN